


Rainbow’s End

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Humor, October Fic Fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: This was his life as he knew it for years now, long nights, light sleep, his tall, slender body wedged inside the gap between the life of a night owl and a full-blown insomniac. These few predawn hours of peace were what kept him alive. Yet, sooner or later, even in a perfect word, a phone rang.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daggoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daggoo/gifts).



Yellow was not the name of the street, but it might as well be, the trees were turning yellow covering the pavement with a yellow carpet of leaves. The yellow sun crawled slowly over the city, framed between two rows of buildings, facing east up the street the view was absolutely stunning. It was almost 7am on a calm and quiet Saturday morning, an occasional car drove by, someone was taking his morning run, a young father was walking the dog on his way to buy fresh bagels for his beautiful wife. This was the kind of place you wanted to stick around, live a safe and happy life in a quiet part of town.  
On the first floor apartment of an unassuming brownstone townhouse, the door closed behind a tall, striking dark-haired woman. Her last nights’ suit jacket was as stylish as her heels were high and her makeup flawless. You wouldn’t tell by her expression or quiet, purposeful stride, that as the thick carpet swallowed the click of her heels, the walls swallowed her screams last night. She spent here more than one night each week, yet this wasn’t her home and neither did she kiss the man she left in the bedroom goodbye. Her day was already planned, and that’s what her thoughts focused on as she got into a cab. 

The apartment wasn’t large, but it was comfortable enough for a man in his early thirties, living a quiet life. All he needed was a place to sleep and a place to write, and that’s basically what it was. A small bedroom taken up almost entirely by a bed and a pair of small nightstands, a living room with a well worn leather sofa, a desk and a fish tank, small kitchen and a bathroom. The rent was cheap and it was all he asked.  
The morning sun peeked inside and it’s golden touch gleamed on the black, lacquered surface of the typewriter, softened by a fine layer of dust on the keys and bars; then found the wine glasses on a small coffee table, lipstick stains on one of them, a crisp white shirt draped over the armrest of the couch, black suit pants on the floor, socks, boxers. Following that trail one didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to easily imagine the events of last night. Yet the September sun was kind, it’s touch soft, tender and warm on his bare back. Warm sheets and feather pillows surrounded him like a fort, guarding these short hours of sleep. This was his life as he knew it for years now, long nights, light sleep, his tall, slender body wedged inside the gap between the life of a night owl and a full-blown insomniac. These few predawn hours of peace were what kept him alive. Yet, sooner or later, even in a perfect word, a phone rang. 

“Mulder” he mumbled into the receiver, grimacing as the cold plastic touched his face.  
“Did I wake you? What are you doing in bed at this hour?” The deep tone carried a slight reprimand and Mulder made the effort to gather his thoughts. The man on the other end of the line didn’t care much about his smart mouth.  
Although he valued his freedom, the little structure and push towards discipline were the main two things the man brought into his life and ff Mulder would ever suffer anyone as his boss, it would be Walter Skinner, his editor, so the title was only half a joke “Good morning Sir”  
“Get up and meet me in an hour at the diner down the street from your place, I’m meeting someone there in ten and I thought we could talk later, since I’m here anyway”  
“With pleasure, not often the mountain comes to the prophet” he chuckled rubbing some sleep out of his eyes.  
“Who said anything about pleasure, just get here, and don’t be late, I ain’t got all day to babysit your sorry ass, 9am sharp”  
“Yes sir” Mulder said with a little smile and the man hung up without a word of goodbye.  
Skinner was the only man who could speak to him like that because quite frankly it was the only way he knew how, due to his military training and three tours in ‘Nam. Honest and fair, not prone to sugarcoat his judgments, those were the traits he appreciated in a man who’s job was to make him work harder. It was his firm hand that made Mulder’s last three books into massive success, and his publishing houses’s efforts that allowed him to remain an anonymous citizen, living his simple life in the greater D.C. area.  
Rolling over onto his back, Mulder stretched his bones, Diana was gone as always, the mess was still there, as always, (“I’m not your housekeeper Mulder”), the sky outside his window had that particular shade of blue it only took on in autumn on a perfectly cloudless day, the clock said 7:30am. Pushing the pillow that smelled of her heavy perfume to the floor and pulling the sheets back up, he gave himself 20 more minutes in bed, to watch the yellowing leaves outside his window and think about nothing. 

 

Walter Skinner, a balding man in his late 40’s, looked through the menu, sitting in a booth sipping black coffee and waiting for his niece to arrive.  
The diner looked like the old diners he remebered from the roadtrips he took around the country, tall vinyl barstools, vinyl booths, a young waitress taking orders and refilling coffee. This place still had the feel he liked, the kind of place you grew up with, where you ate ice cream when your dad sipped his coffee over a newspaper he bought at the kiosk outside, where you shared a first milkshake with a girl hoping she realized it’s a date not two friends hanging out, where you had a midnight coffee coming back from the movies on a Friday night. These kind of places kept the connection to the past alive.  
This Saturday morning the place was buzzing with clients, who had things to do and places to be, but didn’t rush like they would on a normal work day, the world could wait, the coffee couldn’t. Neither could a tiny, slender redhead, who just entered the establishmen, her stride confident and purposeful, and her face stretched in a wonderful smile.  
“Uncle Walter” she said as he stood up to greet her and let her peck the air by his ear.  
“Dana, how many times did I ask you to drop the uncle part”  
“You can ask all you want, but that’s who you are” she giggled and sat down “did you order already?”  
“Not yet, what would you like?” He handed her the menu and she glanced at it, then smiled.  
“Granola with low fat yogurt and coffee”  
“Not pancakes?” He smiled and signaled the waitress “you always had pancakes”  
“Time to grow up” she shrugged out of her light jacket and sipped some coffee, a fine cup of coffee was all she needed to like a place, and she loved this place in an instant.  
“Speak for yourself” he replied and placed their order.  
The food was more than okay too, which was a huge plus for someone who wouldn’t be able to control her hours for the next few months. Being a doctor was a dream job but it came with numerous sacrifices. “Bill and Charlie want to drop by your place later, to say hi”  
“Great, we could have dinner together, to celebrate”  
“No, I can’t, I only have this weekend to move in, the place must be habitable by tonight because my lease on the last place is over and I have no where else to go”  
“You know that’s not true, you can always have my couch” that made her giggle, it was ages since they came to visit their uncle Walt and slept on the floor at his house. Now he was divorced and lived in a fashionable apartment building downtown, but still he thought she’s the little girl who crashed on his couch watching movies late at night.  
“Thanks but no thanks, the point is to do this on my own, standing on my own two feet.” She smiled sweetly stirring yogurt into the fruity mix.  
He practically drowned his pancakes in maple sirup, just as she remembered him doing when she was a kid. He was her Uncle and nothing he said could change that. “You still don’t want me to introduce you to this guy I know, who lives in your building?”  
“Now that would be embarrassing, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself”  
“No one doubts that, I just thought it would be nice, to have someone who’s not a stranger”  
“Walter” her tone was strict, ending the discussion, and it also was a trademark tone of his side of the family.  
“Alright, alright, no more pushing, now tell me how are your folks doing, how’s my sister”  
She told him about the family trip to Florida, about Bill proposing to Tara at dinner on their last night, about Missy ditching them to spend the entire week with a lifeguard, and finally herself and Charlie taking a whole day to swim with the sharks. He listened and laughed and was happy to have his favorite relative so close by his side. From all his relations, the petite Dana Scully was the kind of person her admired and loved to have around. Fearless and bright, curious like a little cat but also sensible enough to know where to draw a line. When he found out she will be taking up residency at the Georgetown University Hospital, he was happy to help find a decent place to live (which she refused), serve with advice (which she took) and any other kind of help she might need or want.  
She finished her story, coffee and breakfast, then glanced at her watch.  
“Oh my! Will you look at that, Bill and Charlie will be here soon, I gotta run” she took out her wallet to pay for herself but he stopped her.  
“Don’t be silly, it’s my treat, you’ll get the next one”  
“This is the next one” she countered, but put away the money, knowing he won’t let her take the next one either “Thank you”  
“Call me when you get settled, I’ll come by to visit”  
She got up and grabbed her jacket “Come to dinner”  
“Even better” he got up with her, but made no move to leave.  
“You’re staying?”  
“I’m meeting a client”  
“Oh, okay” She smiled and hugged him briefly.  
“Take care of yourself Dana, and call me if you need anything”  
“I will” Dana promised and was off, as always fearless and ready to face a new challenge. 

 

Mulder finally got up and managed not to be late for once, although cutting it so close, that he almost trampled a cute redhead exiting the diner. He held the door for her, letting her through with a quiet apology and she flashed him a smile that reached her pretty blue eyes but was gone in a knick of time right along with her, swallowed by the morning crowd.  
Skinner was waiting for him in a booth at the far end of the room, presently on the phone. His previous engagement must have just happened because the waitress didn’t have time to clean up the table.  
“Hello Walter” he said quietly squeezing the man’s offered hand and took his place at the table, just as the waitress appeared with a smile.  
“Hi Mulder” she greeted him piling up the dishes expertly in one hand.  
“Hello Clarice” he smiled back, giving her his best Lecter smile, which wasn’t very good and therefore always made her laugh.  
“The usual?” A mug appeared in front of him and she filled it with coffee  
“Yup, double bacon this time”  
“Coming up” she toped Walter’s mug as well and disappeared to fill his order of double bacon, toast and eggs. A curt goodbye ended the call and Mulder found himself in direct path of a look that might kill a lesser man.  
“So, how’s the book coming along Mulder?”  
“A book?”  
“A short story?”  
“A haiku, tops.”  
“Fine, give me something, anything, so that I would know there’s still some words left in that gray maze you keep for a brain”  
“Hey! My gray maze is doing just fine” Mulder instantly became defensive.  
“Really? When was the last time you wrote something, a chapter, outline of a chapter, a line of text, tell me”  
“I can do it right now”  
“Oh really, right here, on the spot?” Clarice appeared with his food and Mulder thanked her, picking up his fork and knife.  
“Give me a moment and I’ll prove it to you”  
“Fine, take your time”  
Skinner sat back and waited, sipping his coffee and watching Mulder with curious eyes. Breakfast disappeared fast as he looked out the window at the passing crowd. 

Mulder couldn’t deny that the writing wasn’t coming along as it used to, and it was quite some time since he came up with a decent idea, or any idea for that matter. Lately he felt stuck, somehow stuck in his life, caught in a routine that sucked the inspiration out of him one day at a time. His relationship with Diana was growing strained. From the very beginning the deal was to have no strings attached, he could date and bed anyone he wanted, as could she (only fair). But it was becoming clear that her affection lacked the depth he needed to keep him interested. They met a few times per week, shared a night, but his days were his, they weren’t a couple, he hardly could call them friends with benefits. Benefits were alright, the friends part not so much. He couldn’t even remember the last time she really smiled at him. The girl he passed in the doorway earlier had more warmth in her smile for a stranger than Diana had for him, her lover for over a year now.  
He took a napkin and wrote down the first words that came to his mind on a wave of those feelings. 

“Blue and red girl  
A flourish of a smile  
My heart starves” 

Watching him pushing the napkin across the table, Skinner took it and glanced at the words with a critical eye.  
"It's not nothing but it isn't something either" he declared, not unkindly but with a distinct note of reprimand. Mulder looked up at his friend and mentor, but instead of reproach behind the wire-rimmed glasses, he saw concern.  
"Remember what I you told when we first met?" Skinner paused waiting for an answer.  
"Write every day, one word at a time, a sentence, a paragraph, and before you know it you'll have a book in your hands" He recited the words that pulled him through some of his worst writer-blocks, yet today didn't bring him any comfort. As a psychologist he knew that lack of inspiration was only a symptom of something deeper. He took the napkin back and folding it, put it away in his pocket. Walter’s eyes were still on him.  
“Do you still believe that?” He asked finishing the last of his coffee.  
“I want to believe”

They parted ways, and Mulder headed for the swimming pool, taking the long way round. He needed to relax and there was something about water that calmed him and helped sort through the bad thoughts that were gradually taking over his mind. When he passed his building and saw a U-Haul truck and two man struggling with an overstuffed couch, he was glad he thought ahead and took his gym bag when he left earlier. Someone must have leased the place above his flat. 

 

“No no no no no, leave it” she stoped Charlie before he could touch her precious coffee machine “I’ll take it up myself, you can take the china, it’s the box to your left”  
“You’re funny Dana, you let me handle fragile cups and plates but won’t let me touch that monster, which is certainly heavier than you are”  
“This is my coffee machine and if I break it, there will be no one to blame for it but me” she hugged the boxy coffee maker as if it was her dearest child “half of my first paycheck went into this baby”  
“Suit yourself” he picked up the box then grimaced at the wight of it “okay, I take it back, it can’t be heavier than this”  
“Come on, we got the worst part done, the bed and sofa are in, we’re almost done”  
“Yeah, all we have to do now is haul half of Library Of Congress up three flights of stairs, no elevator, I don’t think my optimism can cover that”  
“Then stop wagging your tongue and get moving” Bill said climbing up the ramp, military training oozing from his every pore, as if he was self-proclaimed general and this was his stretch of the front “unless you have some magic powers to help us with the heavy lifting”  
“Use the force Luke” Dana croaked in a poor imitation of Master Yoda.  
“I can’t, it’s too big” Charlie faked dropping the box and she gasped “Gotch’a” he chuckled.  
“That was low” she glared and pointed one finger at the door “Get moving you beanstalk!”  
Her annoyed expression made him really laugh this time, but he did as ordered, following Bill who was carrying another one of the heavy boxes.  
The three of them managed to move everything in less than two hours and the boys left Dana’s new place with a sense of a job well done, despite her refusing their offer to help with unpacking. She thanked them and promised to join them wherever they manage to drag out Uncle Walter.  
After she shut the door behind them and looked around the place, the enormity of the step finally started to sink in. She was living on her own, starting a new job in two days and she was going to do this alone. And she was ready to do it! She will show them all! But first she needed coffee, yes, coffee will pull her along. 

 

Mulder came back home, somewhere between one box run and the next. The thumping on the stairs didn’t bother him that much; he was planning to take a nap anyway. A mile along the swimming pool made him deliciously tired and ready to cheat insomnia out of few hours of sleep. The living room was still a mess, and picking up clothes to make room on the couch he noticed traces of lipstick on the collar of his favorite white shirt and got instantly annoyed with Diana. Great, just what he needed, maybe Mrs. Woo could work her magic and save it, but the discovery left him discouraged, made him feel like a thing, marked and left on a shelf for another day. He decided to clean up the rest of the place later, not that he was expecting anybody tonight anyway. The couch was well worn and a good friend of his.  
Two hours later Mulder woke up and smiled at the ceiling, recognizing a faint echo of Perry Como, who’s papa loved mambo. Good thing it wasn’t another silence loving nag who called the police twice a month, he had enough of that.  
Gathering the wine glasses and take-out cartons from the coffee table, he danced a little on his way to the kitchen, humming the familiar tune under his breath. He went two and let the water swirl around the glass, washing out the remaining wine, on four squeezed some soap on the sponge and wiped the lipstick of the edge of glass...  
And in that moment his hand slipped and by pure reflex he squeezed the bowl, crushing the glass. Blood darker than wine flowed from a deep cut in the palm of his right hand. He tore off a paper towel and pressed it against the wound, then rummaged through the cabinets, searching for bandages, bandaids, anything to stop the bleeding. His heart was racing, adrenaline fueled his thesaurus and if he stoped to listen to what he was saying he’d be surprised how many swear words he knew and how colorful pictures he could paint with them. Still he found nothing, the first aid kit was empty, not even a piece of gauze in a torn sterile packet, he carved himself a new, shorter, lifeline. The paper towel was turning bright red fast, he needed help. The couple downstairs was out of town, Alex on top floor was a prick and creeped him out, his only chance was the new guy upstairs.  
Rushing to the door, Mulder bumped his head painfully on the open cabinet doors, cursing the world again. Rubbing his forehead he took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door urgently. Quite the dramatic way to introduce himself to the new neighbor, he couldn’t have written it better himself if he tried.  
A small redhead opened the door and beneath the frizzing tresses he recognized the blue eyes he saw disappear into the crowd that morning, but before he could say anything, or even find his tongue, she noticed his bloodied face and pulled him inside.  
“What happened?” She asked briskly, dancing between boxes while dragging him to the kitchen by the sleeve of his shirt. Flicking the lights on and sitting him in a chair, she tilted his face into the light, searching for injury that was the source of all the blood.  
“I was doing dishes” he finally spoke and wriggled from under her touch to show her his bleeding hand “you got any bandages?”  
They looked at each other, he in pain yet slightly amused, she concerned and as serious as one could get, but only for a second untill they both laughed.  
“Sure” the girl relaxed and from between the boxes produced a deep red, medical looking bag “you’ve come to the right place”  
She took his right hand in hers, looking under the paper towel to asses the damage.  
“Fox Mulder, pleased to meet you” he quipped.  
“Dana Scully, M.D.” the girl smiled, glancing up and meeting his eyes.  
“Well Doctor Scully, is it bad?”  
“You won’t be doing any dishwashing for a few days” she said looking for tweezers in case there was some glass left.  
“Just patch me up and I’ll buy you dinner, nobody does the dishes tonight”


	2. Chapter 2

_“What am I doing”_ Dana chastised herself internally, picking tiny shards of glass from his cut palm, there wasn’t much of it but she checked twice anyway. She should have thought about this before she pulled him inside. It was a reflex, see blood, react. Now this complete stranger was sitting under the strongest bulb she had around here, wincing from time to time, as she cleaned his wound from blood.  
“So we’re neighbors” she said, trying to distract him from what she was doing; the antiseptic stung.  
“I live downstairs” he winced again but she was already done. Thankfully the cut didn’t need stitches, some gauze and bandage should suffice “you have far better music taste than the pervious tenant”  
She noticed the radio was a little loud and without letting go nodded towards the remote on the table, he turned down the music to conversation background.  
“Fan of Perry Como?” She pressed some gauze to the wound and started to twirl the bandage around his palm.  
“More of an Elvis kind of guy, but this is okay too” her hands were small and confident, she knew exactly what she was doing. Quickly his hand was thoroughly mummified and she was throwing away blood stained gauze, snapping off latex gloves and putting things away into her oversized fist aid kit.  
“Try not to get it wet for a few hours and come back tomorrow so I can change the bandages” she instructed.  
He was sure he will be here for a followup, bright and early, eleven o’clock. _She sounds like a real doctor_ , Mulder thought smiling at his own silliness, because she was a doctor, how else would she sound, but it also sounded like a dismissal and he wasn’t ready to let go so easily.  
“So, about that dinner” looking around the room, he tried to think of some way he could help, to pay her back despite his injured hand.  
“That won’t be necessary” she was washing her hands, leaning over the sink and he forced himself not to ogle her ass too much.  
“Please, a late lunch at least, you practically saved my life, and I can’t leave a debt like that unpaid”  
“You’re the dramatic kind aren’t you” she turned to face him, drying her hands.  
“If it gets me through the door” he joked, but caught himself and looked down, embarrassed, _way to go be a creep_ “Sorry, that sounded weird, you probably want to unpack in peace, I should leave you to it”  
He looked like a hurt puppy, and it was way past lunch time, she didn’t eat anything since breakfast.  
“If we’d order in” she conceded and his head sprang back up. If he was a dog, his ears would stand up and his tail would wag.  
“You’re okay with Chinese?” Mulder suggested.  
“Chinese would be nice” the way his face lit up made her smile “but we split the check”  
“It hurts my feelings, but if you insist” whatever made her say yes, he’d agree to, no questions asked.  
“I insist” she could live with one free meal per day, but not from a stranger. A very nice and friendly and good looking stranger, but still a stranger.  
She handed him the receiver but he put it down on the table  
“Where are my manners, can you hold on for a second?” he walked to the door without waiting for her reply.  
“Where are you going?”  
“I’ve got some menus downstairs, I’ll be right back” quickly and thankfully without knocking anything over, he was gone. 

_What a strange man_ , Dana said to herself and looked inside a box full of dinnerware, knowing that she should wash everything before putting it away into drawers and cabinets but having no time to do that. She picked two plates, and set aside everything else. They probably will eat out of cartons but she wanted to at least have the chance to offer. Fox, _what a strange name_ , didn’t look like someone who stood on ceremony. She cleaned up the table, straightened the chairs, and leaving a carton on one of them, started to take out and rinse mugs, lining them up on a rag to dry. Coffee and tea was all she had around the house for now. 

Mulder went downstairs with a silly grin on his face. Talk about small world, fate and fortune coincidences. Her warm smile was just as he remembered, real, he didn’t imagine it. A little angry at himself for not locking the door, he found the menus under the coffee table, took his wallet and stoped holding the doorknob.  
_Calm down, relax. Where’s the fire? You know nothing about her, she might have someone, a guy, a girl perhaps. Don’t get ahead of yourself._  
Going through this silent rant, he double-backed to the fridge, white wine or beer? Beer, less alcohol, and anyway she can always opt out.  
He was locking his door when Alex passed him in the hallway, noticing the six-pack under his arm.  
“Wow, you’re cheap Mulder”  
“Maybe for you Krycek” he turned and went in the opposite direction than the other man, dislike quickening his step.  
“You know who moved in upstairs?” He called after him, but Mulder didn’t have time to answer.  
He knocked on the door and let himself in “I’m back” 

Dana huffed out a small laugh without bothering to turn around, this guy knew nothing about boundaries. But as in other men it annoyed her, he made it feel casual and safe. She heard the clank of bottles and looked over her shoulder.  
“Don’t you have enough glass for one day?”  
“Something to wash down the food, totally optional, I’m not counting this into your tab” he set the bottles on the table and spread out the pamphlets “pick a place”  
“I just moved here, how should I know which one is best?”  
“It’s like an adventure, come on, they’re all great so there’s no wrong choice to be honest”  
“Okay, how about this” she picked the most subdued design.  
“Not bad, best egg rolls of them all, mean sweet and sour chicken, but it’s your choice”  
“Okay, let’s have that, I’m really not picky, and you seem to know your way around”  
“You sure?”  
“Yup, go wild”  
“Such a vote of confidence, I’m touched”  
“Oh, just order already”  
He picked up the phone, ordered and laughed with the person on the other side of the line, it sounded as if he was a regular customer. In the mean time she went to the box with kitchen utensils and found a bottle opener.  
“One hour tops” Mulder said hanging up and took the bottle she offered, lifting it in a small salut “to new friends”  
“And safety glass” she added and sipped from her bottle then went back to washing and drying the mugs.  
“So, Fox” she started and he barked out a laugh.  
“Please, just Mulder, nobody calls me Fox, not even my parents”  
“Alright, Mulder, what do you do for a living?”  
“I write horoscopes” he went to his usual joke.  
A small lie combined with the fact that his novels were published under a pseudonym, bought him at least a few of days to get to know people without signing copies of his books for friends and relatives and answering questions about extraterrestrials. Life of a sci-fi novelist was hard.  
However the side effect of such innocent lie was her gaping mouth and bewildered smile.  
“What?” He chuckled “Someone has to do it” She looked cute, frozen mid-wipe of a blue china cup.  
“How do you do that?” Dana forced herself to remain calm “you had some kind of training?”  
“I took a four year course in Oxford” he pushed on, wondering how far he could go with pulling her leg, before she burst out laughing “came back to the states and now I run a little column for Cosmo, I can read your palm if you want”  
And that was that, she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she bent over, arms crossed over her stomach and laughed, and laughed, and he laughed with her, marveling at the wonderful sound.  
“No, seriously, what do you do” she gasped, siting at the table, wiping her eyes.  
“I’m a psychologist, not practicing, but I work for the FBI sometimes, mostly consulting jobs.”  
“And that leaves you with time to read people’s futures?” She teased, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.  
“Enough to balance dabbling in criminal’s past”  
She laid both her hands on the table, palms up “Okay, what do you see in my future”  
Mulder chuckled, but took her hand in his awkwardly, his right still throbbing under the bandages.  
“I see a tall dark stranger, completely harmless, no need to worry” a wink earned him a smile “a charming young man who could be a true friend if you’ll let him, well versed in neighborhood politics, a wellspring of knowledge about best parking spots, local take-out joints and deli stores”  
“How many girls did you try to pick up with that line?” Her gaze was honest and she made it clear his BS made no impression, except maybe being slightly amusing.  
“Not as many as you’d think” he let go pf her palms and dialed back on the teasing.  
“It’s not very effective” she went back to washing the mugs “so about those neighborhood politics, are there some unwritten rules I should know about?”  
“Not really” he could feel that he crossed some line, but didn’t let it scare him away. Dana Scully didn’t suffer fools and he made note to remember that “the guy above you, Alex Krycek doesn’t like noise, I don’t mind either way, the couple downstairs, the Petrie’s are away on an extended holiday, haven’t seen them in three months, and I don’t expect them to be back anytime soon”  
“Where did they go?”  
“I didn’t ask, they kept to themselves, and I respected that”  
“So you do not make it a habit to barge in on your new neighbors on their fist day?” That stung a bit, he was beginning to regret his forwardness.  
“No, I do not, and if you like, I can leave” he pushed the bottle aside and started to get up “you did enough for me as it is, and I see you have a lot to do”  
“No” suddenly alarmed, Dana turned to face him “I didn’t mean it like that, please, stay, I’m just not used to being” she stoped, he wasn’t sure why, but a cloud of shame passed over her face “called someone’s friend after 20 minutes since meeting them. People usually take me for the Ice Queen”  
“You didn’t meet me 20 minutes ago” he sat back down, trying to bring her back from the shell she was crawling back into “we met this morning”  
“We did?”  
“Yeah, you passed me when you were leaving the diner at the end of the street, great waffles and coffee, probably the best in DC”  
“I did?” She raked her memory, but pulled blank.  
“You probably were too busy to remember, with the movers arriving soon”  
“How did you know that?” Her eyes grew wide, and she became worried a little, despite his assurances.  
“Calm down, simple observation, I saw the truck, I remembered your clothes and hair, eidetic memory, just a simple matter of putting two and two together”  
“You do work for the FBI”  
“Part time, but you pick up a habit or two, I swear I mean you no harm”  
“Even if you did, I took a self-defense class, so I know how to take care of myself”  
“I don’t doubt that” he tried to smile his most sincere and non-threatening smile, and she began to relax, still he was curious “Why do people call you Ice Queen? I see no reason for that”  
“You seem like the exception to all rules” she sighed and dried the last mug. “I guess I’m skeptical of all new acquaintances, you can call it trust issues if you want”  
“I’d rather call it reason” he got up and rounded the table.  
“You’re going? What about the food?” She sounded anxious but didn’t step back.  
“No, I’m not going” he pushed up the sleeves as much as he could with his bad hand “put me to work, how can I help?”  
“But your hand”  
“I’ll manage, and if I break anything I’ll pay for it” he was completely serious and she saw it “Come on Scully, I’m at your disposal”  
“Okay” she let slide the use of her last name, with what he said about his own name, it seemed kind of fair “maybe we’ll leave the dishes for now, I don’t want you to get those bandages wet, we could unpack the books, you think you can handle that?”  
“I’ll hand them to you, and you’ll arrange them inside the bookcase, because I’m sure you have a system”  
“Yup” she smiled and led the way to the stack of boxes in the living room “I sure have” 

The process went quite smoothly as they waited for the food to arrive. Thanks to her sensible packing, the books were basically ordered the way she wanted them, the only problem was picking bookshelves. He didn’t skip a chance to laugh at some of the titles.  
“ _Inflammatory Bowel Diseases: A Personal View_ now that must be a real page turner” he laughed handing her another pile of books.  
“You have no idea, Steven King has nothing on this one”  
“Nope, wait, we have a winner, this one I got to read” he picked a medium-sized volume and started to page through it.  
“Give it back, Mulder” she reached for the books but he turned away.  
“Hold on a second, this is great”  
“What have you got there” she tried to take the book from him but he escaped her again “a layman shouldn’t read this stuff, you’ll read something and you’ll think you’re sick or dying”  
“I’m not a layman, I’m a psychologist” the book was hidden behind his back and smile “not a hypochondriac”  
“All men are” she laughed and her arms went around him, searching for the book. Mulder froze and she realized what she was doing. She was holding on to him, her arms around his waist and he was looking down at her with a wicked grin.  
“Like I said, you’re no Ice Queen” he took half a step back, still in her space but no longer in her arms, and showed her the title.  
“DIY Brain Surgery” he said and gave her the book back “you have to lend me this one sometime” 

The doorbell saved them. Scully from thinking too much about the hard muscle of his chest, and Mulder from trying to remember when was the last time a woman putting her arms around him made him laugh with excitement.  
He went to the door and paid the Lin boy, as always, tipping him handsomely.  
“You want to eat here?” She asked walking to the kitchen, ready to set the table.  
“Sure” unpacking the food, he grimaced as she set the plates and napkins and silverware “I thought we said no dishes”  
“I want to try everything, so we’re sharing, I’ll do the dishes”  
He didn’t argue, and she did try everything, eating with gusto, as befit someone who did a honest day’s work. The sight made Mulder almost as pleased as if he cooked for her himself, although he never did things like that.  
“I like this chicken thing, not too spicy to burn you through” she said around a mouthful of moo goo gai pan.  
“Easy on the deep fried shrimp then, the sauce is pure fire” he warned.  
“Really?” Taking a piece and dipping it cautiously, she nibbled at the end then gasped “oh-ghod-wha-ish-thish”  
She covered her mouth breathing deeply, hoping the beer could put out the fire, gesturing with her chopsticks for him to take the shrimp.  
“Put it down” he said and she did, the shrimp and the beer, looking down, flushed at being caught taking too much liberties.  
“You don’t pass food like that” he said with a smile, picking the shrimp of her plate and dipping it in sauce “it’s a funeral custom in Japan”  
He bit of half without flinching, then licked his lips, and the sight made her feel warmth that had nothing to do with the hot sauce. She wanted to argue that they were having chinese not sushi, but he licked his lips again and she lost her train of thought for a moment.  
“Try the dumplings” she heard him say a moment later and time picked up it’s usual pace.

The food was great as promised, and they had a second beer with it, each.  
“This was probably the best chinese I ever had” Scully sighed, leaning back in her chair with a contented smile that suddenly turned into a frown. She looked over his shoulder to the living room “do you have some strength left in you to help me clean up the couch?”  
“Sure” he said looking back to the overstuffed monster he saw before, now stacked with bags, most likely clothes “you want to unpack or just move it?”  
“Move it, I’ll do that later or tomorrow”  
“‘key” so they moved the bags and sank into couch cushions, shoulder to shoulder.  
“I think I’m in danger of falling into a food induced coma” Scully giggled and pulled her feet up, folding them underneath herself.  
Elvis record he found and she let him put on, made another circle and the King crooned softly about things that couldn’t be helped.  
Mulder reached over and pulled down the blanket she left on the back of the couch over her, gently drawing her into his side.  
“Sleep” he said quietly, shifting to make them both more comfortable “I know a good doctor”  
Scully half laughed half sighed, but sleep was stronger than either of them.  
Mulder closed his eyes, and drifted off, rocked by her steady breath and the King’s lullaby. 

One floor below, the phone woke the answering machine who beeped, startled, and then reciting her line, took a message from the woman on the other side.  
“Fox, I can’t meet you tomorrow, maybe some other time”

**Author's Note:**

> For Daggoo who coaxed the outline out of me and came up with the Scully Brothers and the coffee machine.  
> Loosely inspired by the movie Breakfast At Tiffany's.


End file.
